Sanctum's Glory
by Red-Dream
Summary: The story of the final weeks before Cocoon's fall, as told from the Sanctum's eyes. There are four primary characters, although I'm only allowed to list two. They are all mentioned in the first chapter. Entire fic is canon. Rated T for later chapters. Now on fast track for daily to weekly updates!
1. Chapter 1: On The Other Side

**Author's Note:** Hello all! **Please read, this is important.** This is the first chapter of the new fic I've had planned. However, it is a beta chapter, which means that I have posted it solely for review and it should be considered a one-shot at the moment. I guarantee later chapters will be posted, and if you are interested, please subscribe, but they will come in future weeks as time permits. Updates for this will have comparitively more time between them, as the chapters are, by my standards, longer than usual. For now, please enjoy!

* * *

Sanctum's Glory

Ours was the height of honor and pride in Cocoon. We ruled for many millennia with a fearless fist. These are our chronicles of the final few days before the fall.

* * *

Prologue : Chapter 1 : On the Other Side

:: 05.31.3075 ; 6:08 A.M.

There has never been a better day to be an officer of the Sanctum. Peace has reigned and been as sure as the light of the Fal'Cie Phoenix for countless years now. We are granted prosperity and luxuries because of their daily benevolence; of that, I am thankful. The people of Cocoon are undoubtedly grateful of their protectors, and we have given them naught reason to believe we fall short of the same standard. ::

Lieutenant Colonel Yaag Rosch paused momentarily to sift through the plethora of words that begged to be recorded onto his datalog. Long nights left him groggy upon first waking. For such a serious and decorated man of prestige, he held a certain fondness for poetry, a guilty indulgence that he engaged in only when he was alone. When his mind wandered and threatened to spill an excess of observational drabble that he was not certain he could remember, he never failed to channel it instead into his heavily encrypted and self-destruction rigged journal, tucked inconspicuously among his many other guarded possessions. They were rigged to blow up as well, and every man and woman under his command was made aware of that.

_An old habit from the training academy that gave me an excuse to use this datalog far more frequently than is healthy for me._

Recomposed, he continued tapping away at the holographic keyboard.

:: Today we are assigned a basic scouting mission. Feeling that the citizens are in need of an impressive show of military might to give them something to cheer about, the Sanctum has ordered a sizable portion of the PSICOM aerial fleet to dispatch and slowly sweep across the lands, city by city. They are confident the Guardian Corps. stationed here in Eden, the so called Home-Guard, or GC-CGD, are capable of maintaining the uncontested peace. I do not disagree- however, they are woefully ill-equipped for any incident larger than a civilian riot. Nonetheless, I will trust the judgement of Primarch Dysley, and to a lesser extent, Fal'Cie Eden, who have both approved the movement. The Primarch himself is making arrangements to begin a much needed tour. We act as the precursors to his arrival, and there shall be no mistakes. ::

The Colonel stretched briefly to shake away the stiffness that was creeping into his body. It was still early in the morning, and he needed breakfast. Deciding that mentioning the role his competitive counterpart officer played in this mission was not important, Rosch turned off the datalog and filed it into a cabinet.

The light of Phoenix trickled from the sky through the giant windows of his bedroom; it was gentle, at first, to give Cocoon some time to adjust. It would soon be intensifying from a deep purple to a glowing orange, and finally paint the sky in an ethereal blue.

_Right on schedule, as always._

Most of Colonel Rosch's adult life consisted of schedules. Waking up and eating was no exception. He had disliked it at first, when he was still young and ambitious, but that enthusiasm had long since hardened and been replaced with a steely edge. He had become like his instructors: a leader of the military that lived and breathed authority.

Three quick beeps on his comlink alerted Rosch to an incoming call as he briskly strode down the hall to an elevator. His secretaries were precise in their timing.

"Rosch here. Speak to me." His tone never changed, no matter the time of day. It was like he never slept.

"Good morning, sir." Of course, he was willing to make an exception for one person in particular. "You are expected at a meeting today for 8:30 at the Sanctum Hall. It consists of a quick review of the operation's stages and a speech by the Primarch before we're sent off."

"Thank you, Lucille."

"Shall I arrange for your breakfast to be delivered there in advance, sir?"

"No, that will not be necessary. I think I'll be eating casually today. Is that all?" He almost betrayed a hint of humor.

"No, sir. You have a personal message. Shall I read it to you?"

"Is it from Colonel Nabaat?"

"Yes, sir." Rosch silently grimaced, partly wishing he could ignore it.

"Relay."

_I am not going to enjoy this._

"It says 'Good luck on the mission, Rosch. I look forward to overseeing your division. See you at-'"

"Thank you, Lucille, I've heard enough. You can trash the rest." Years of biting back snark comments gave Rosch the ability to keep his tone even. The last thing he wanted was to lose his temper over a _message._

"Very well, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, that will be all. Dismissed."

The connection was cut.

Lucille was something of a young student to him. She was full of energy and eager to please, and Rosch held a certain fondness towards the woman that reminded him of himself. He wasn't even that much older than her.

He summoned an elevator with a press, and within moments was descending the ornate columns of metal and glass that decorated the PSICOM living quarters for senior officials.

_Today is going to be a long day._

* * *

Organic eggs, servings of fruit, slices of ham, and some toast; compliments of Carbuncle. Eating was occasionally paltry; just another task he had to attend to every now and again. Today was not a day to be delecting in flavors.

Cocoon was almost in full swing now. Phoenix was chugging along with its subordinate Fal'Cie to orchestrate another bout of pleasant and mild weather. Not too hot with a sporadic cool breeze. Airships were whizzing above the buildings of Eden, carrying citizens and officials alike to the beginning of their shifts. Rosch was one of them.

He stepped into a sleek corsair flanked by two gunships and waved for takeoff. The panels slid shut behind him and the craft lifted quietly.

Before Rosch could settle in and admire the cityscape, a holograph projected itself in front of him.

_Honestly, the Sanctum is downright conversational today._

"Lieutenant Colonel Rosch."

Rosch's eyes widened.

"Primarch Dysley, sir? I wasn't expecting-"

"You may settle yourself, this is merely a pre-recorded message."

Rosch scowled at his embarrassing outburst.

"I requested that it be played to all governing military and Sanctum personnel. Allow me to firstly commend you for your duty to Cocoon; your unwavering loyalty to her prosperity has been an inspiration comparable to that of the Fal'Cie. Today we will undergo a massive operation focused on raising the spirits of our citizens, as well as our own. Under the wise guidance of our Fal'Cie Eden we shall bolster pride throughout the land. Remember, my dear compatriots, that we live always under the shadow of attack from the annals of Pulse. Let us be vigilant in our watch to protect these humble lives with which we have been entrusted. May paradise continue to reign on Cocoon, and may Lindzei smile on us all."

The message ended. Rosch's heart swelled from the obvious flattery that was supposed to stroke his ego, letting it sink in a little, but felt a more personal happiness in simply being a protector of the planet he loved.

Within a few minutes, the corsair landed in front of the Sanctum Hall. Swarms of reporters were littered at the base of its grand stairs, and numerous GC-CGD soldiers kept them at bay. Rosch stepped out and was met with a mass of voices fighting to have their questions heard for the latest information on the operation. He was almost disappointed most of them didn't notice his approach as he blended in with the other arriving officials until he was being escorted through.

_I usually enjoy some exposure to the public here and there. We don't often have occasions for it._

There it was, perched atop the wide stone staircase. Beyond the throng of reporters and camera drones-

_The Sanctum Hall. The center of legislative, executive and judicial administration. I have not visited in a while…_

As he reached the top step, a line of Corps Tranquifex soldiers saluted crisply in unison. He smiled inwardly, stirring memories of his own days as a cadet in a uniform of yellow and white. The noise began to fade away, and once he reached the main entrance only the sounds of multiple footsteps echoed between the tall columns and vaulted ceiling.

_True to tradition, this hall is still of ancient architecture, a temple among the mass of modern buildings that flank it on all sides._

The Sanctum Hall was not without its upgrades, however. Recent additions included small command centers being added on directly to the building with the intent of supplying a round-the-clock task force.

As the Colonel walked through the large double doors into the Hall's ornate and spacious lobby, alive with a quiet buzz of conversation between the leaders of Cocoon, a Hall attendant, dressed in a royal uniform of blue and white, ran up to Rosch.

"Good morning, sir. Please follow me to the conference chamber."

Rosch glanced down at his watch.

_It's only 8:10._

His steel grey eyes made a quick scan of everyone present.

_I have no business with anyone here. Pleasantries are not my field._

He nodded to the attendant, allowing himself to be led away to the relative quiet of the mostly empty chamber. Only a few politicians strolled on the opposite side, chuckling at whatever their conversation entailed. The attendant bowed and turned on his heel, leaving Rosch to slide into a seat overlooking most of the chamber from above.

_Nabaat will be sitting next to me…_

The thought made him furrow his brows in annoyance. It wasn't that he hated her; far from it, they had competed in the same class to their current ranks and she had only just edged him out to grab first- she was just so sure of herself that she was overbearing and teased him regularly, almost taunting. Recently that had managed to crawl under his skin, unprofessional as it was, and Lucille was one of the first to notice. As a good subordinate, she said nothing. As a sort of friend, she reassured him that she preferred his command over Nabaat's.

Rosch settled back into the chair, crossing his arms and leg. It was strangely relaxing here. When he closed his eyes, he could almost detect the scent of an air freshener, but perhaps that was a lingering cologne from the attendant.

By the time he emerged from his thoughts, it was 8:28.

An all too familiar clicking reached his ears as his partner officer-in-arms, Lieutenant Colonel Jihl Nabaat, walked over. She flashed a hollow smile at Rosch as she bent down to sit next to him.

"Good morning, Rosch." She adjusted her glasses, the edges of the smile never leaving her lips. "Did you have a pleasant ride over?"

He knew she was toying with him, building up to another snide remark, but he humored her anyway.

"Why yes, Jihl, I did. Lo and behold I even received a message from the Primarch, congratulating me for dealing with your attitude and commentary."

Jihl actually smirked, visibly amused by his barb.

"I hope you received my message as well." It was more of a statement than a question; she made no effort to conceal her threatening demeanor.

"Unfortunately. How thoughtful of you to personally leave me your well wishes."

_And insults._

Jihl settled back, satisfied that her intention had come across. "I sincerely meant every word, Colonel."

A man dressed similarly to the attendant appeared below, striding up to a platform positioned in the center of the chamber with a large holographic projector imbedded into it.

_Finally, we begin._

* * *

The Primarch was an older man, perhaps in his mid-60's. Age did not diminish his regal presence and tall figure from standing out among whoever was by his side, not in the least because of his elegant purple and white garments. He reminded Rosch of a grandfather as he sat perched above all the members present in the chamber, surveying the events unfolding below with a critical gaze.

The presenter of the operation's review droned on in a noticeable Eden-born accent, sharply pronouncing certain syllables as was customary of people taught in this city. Rosch had already devoted the operational logs handed to him a few days ago to memory, so sitting there was something of a bore.

The presenter stopped, stepping off the platform. All eyes turned to the Primarch as he gently stood, microdroid hovering nearby.

"Greetings, members of the Sanctum." His voice echoed through the chamber powerfully.

"I am pleased to see you all gathered here today. I do not intend to keep you from your duties, important as they are." Part of Dysley's sway over the populace and even the Sanctum was his unwavering honesty and directness in addressing important matters.

"I have nothing but words of encouragement and good tidings for the efforts you are about to undertake. Today will be a memorable day in Cocoon's history; let us do our part to lead her to the glory of a shining dawn."

Primarch Dysley turned and steadily left the chamber to a thunderous standing ovation, to which Rosch and Jihl contributed. When it finished, a giddy atmosphere descended upon the departing officials as they filed away to their respective posts, rife with anticipation. Our of the corner of his eye, Rosch spotted the well-known Brigadier General Cid Raines staring in his direction, but whether it was on purpose or even intended for him, he did not know.

Rosch tapped the comlink on his ear.

"Connect me to Captain Lucille."

"One moment sir."

…

"Captain Lucille reporting."

"Lucille, we are boarding the Fenrir, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Send a corsair to the entrance of the Hall to pick me up. I want the ship prepped to leave the moment I step onto the bridge."

"Right away."

"Do me a favor, would you?"

"Sir?"

"I'd like a datalog ready with the fleet's positions."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes. Dismissed."

Rosch could feel the beginnings of a cocky smile tug at his features as he stepped out of the lobby and into the fresh morning air.

_Maybe today won't be as bad as I originally thought._

* * *

The smell of ventilated air and fresh metal was invigorating, especially aboard a newly commissioned assault ship. Rosch took in the beautiful scene before him: an organized crew of technicians typed away at numerous terminals to engage the engines and stabilize the _Fenrir's_ fins for takeoff. The holograph in front of him provided a clear view of the ship's vital sectors, as well as a visual on some of the nearby ships that were prepping for launch as well.

"Engines ready, sir."

"Fins in position."

"Shields are at full power."

"Batteries are loaded."

They operated like clockwork, a fine-tuned team of men and women that were ready to pilot the _Fenrir_ to Pulse itself if they had to.

"Launch into formation. I want status reports at the ready and open comm channels with all the ships in this squad, including the Palamecia."

Even though it was supposed to be a routine mission with absolutely no chance of interference, Rosch would be taking no risks. He was dedicated to protocol no matter how lax the routine was, because that was what saved lives in case of an emergency.

"Glad to see you aboard, sir." Lucille walked onto the bridge, saluting.

"As am I, captain." He nodded. "It's been a few weeks since we've had any movement. Perhaps now will be a good time for you to prove you're ready for a promotion."

Lucille did not attempt to hide her grin; Colonel Rosch could be a benevolent man when he wanted to be.

"Did the meeting go smoothly?"

"It was as eventful as a trip to the toilet."

The Colonel relaxed around her; when he was cracking jokes, she knew he was in a good mood. He stayed on the bridge for a moment longer before retiring to the observation deck for a drink.

* * *

"Are ya always this deep in thought, General?"

Cid's focus was cut like a string. Rygdea's heavy country accent had the habit of doing that to him. He glanced at the shaggy haired captain, who offered a lopsided grin as apology.

"I would think you already knew the answer to that, Rygdea."

"Just checkin'. It's about today's mission, isn't it?"

"It is." Cid's tone was uncharacteristically grim. "While PSICOM has fun flexing their arm, we're left with the serious task of keeping Eden under control. I can't help but feel there's something more going on underneath the surface."

"What do ya mean? I know we don't see eye to eye with those fellas but you seem to think there's a hidden agenda."

"It's just a feeling I cannot shake off. Such a large part of PSICOM spreading across Cocoon, with the Primarch at the front seat? The objective being to boost morale among the citizens?"

"Well, since you put it that way, that does sound fishy."

"In due time, we will come to understand the true purpose of this operation. Until then, we will be cautious."

"Gotcha. Any special orders for the boys?"

The General shook his head. "Not yet. I want no movements until we're certain of what we're doing."

Silence fell upon them.

"…Why did you really come here, Captain?"

"What do ya mean why did I come here? To check up on you!"

_And that is why you're my trusted friend, Rygdea._


	2. Chapter 2: Sluggish Start

**Author's Note:** Back in black, baby! My first upload in months, thanks in large part to a resurge in interest during the week. This chapter came out fairly quickly, and is the official continuation of Sanctum's Glory, now making it a story. Hope you all enjoy, things are starting to kick into a high gear.

* * *

Prologue : Chapter 2 : Sluggish Start

"Is my playing style really that boring, or are you just that good?" Lucille gently pushed a polished ceramic figurine forward down the board, gripping it for a moment to check once more that it was not in fact situated to be immediately compromised. Across the table from her, the stoic Rosch was only half present and not entirely attuned to the game unfolding. After an hour of having been holed up in his quarters, he had requested that she join him for a quick match of chess. Three matches and two cups of coffee later, Rosch was again descending into a miserable disinterest with general reality.

With some effort, he willed his lips to move. "Neither. I am merely more engaged in lamenting over my position in life in relation to a certain individual... Or two." His head then buckled into his arms with an exasperated sigh. This behavior was certainly _new_, but when Lucille spotted an empty bottle of _Eden Brand_ tucked half-heartedly under Rosch's bedsheets, it was certainly not surprising.

_For a drunk he plays remarkably well..._

Ignoring the possible trouble Rosch could get into if anyone found out the commander of the _Fenrir_ was willfully intoxicated and judgmentally impaired, Lucille stood from the table and laid an arm on his shoulders to coax him into bed. It was, after all, just past 12:30 in the afternoon, an ungodly time to be awake after a drink. Rosch grumbled, but allowed himself to be pulled over to the bed knowing that either way he would soon pass out.

Lucille engaged the windows to dim considerably as Rosch sank into the soft mattress, smiling ever so faintly as she reminisced about how similar this was to putting her own young brother to bed when they had both been children.

_Well, no one's going to miss him for a while anyway. We've got clear skies and a peaceful sail over to Nautilus._

Lucille absentmindedly pulled the bottle out from under Rosch's limp body and sat down in its place. He was still fully dressed, his hair neatly tied back. To see him splayed out so casually was an unfitting contrast to the kind of man he was, but this moment of vulnerability just reaffirmed her notion that even Rosch was still just a person with a heart that could bleed. She didn't know him to snore or drool, but the steady rise and fall of his back almost certainly meant he was unconscious, so she cautiously stood and hid the bottle within one of the many shelves nearby lest someone should accidentally wander in and draw the right conclusion.

To her surprise, Rosch muttered something that sounded like her name.

"Yes, sir?" she stammered.

He took a few even breaths before attempting speech again. "Thank you."

"May I ask for what?"

He coughed- or was it a failed laugh? "The company."

"Anytime, sir." Lucille smiled. "Although I would suggest not intoxicating yourself next time. The Primarch would be less than pleased to see you wasted this early into the operation."

"The _Primarch_ wouldn't know how to have a good time if it nipped him on the-"

"Oh, look at the time!" She quickly interrupted, biting back a laugh at what would have surely been an _unprofessional_ comment. "I really must get going. Ship to attend to." Lucille was in fact genuinely keen on exercising her authority as Captain over the crew, even if there was little to be done. Perhaps she would ask for someone to fetch her coffee, just for the heck of it. She stepped out of the dim and quiet room, the door sliding shut silently behind her.

* * *

Cid Raines was not in the mood to be flattered or doted upon, so to be summoned for a private audience with Primarch Dysley during the middle of the day when he felt freshest was akin to sleeping in a chocobo pen. However, there would be an opportunity to probe the elder man and even perhaps glean something on the true purpose of scattering PSICOM across Cocoon, so his displeasure would have to wait.

Dysley's office was nestled right on top of the Sanctum Hall, overlooking the center of Eden from up high. It was magnificently spacious and finely furnished for such a temporary room; there were even a few leather arm chairs, but mostly the windows were dimmed and the room in shade. The Primarch still had a taste for the old.

The man himself was by the windows, standing idly in contemplation and still dressed regally from his oration earlier.

"You requested to see me, Primarch?"

"Yes, yes I did." He turned nimbly, smiling as he shuffled forward to clasp Cid's gloved hand. "Come, have a seat." Dysley motioned to the chairs but did not sit, choosing instead to pace slowly in front of Cid's eyes.

"I am a man of advanced age, General…"

"Your step appears to still be fleeting, sir."

"I hope you are not fishing for a promotion from me." Dysley chuckled, but it was brief and not at all warm. "…You must be wondering why I requested your presence."

"Naturally."

"My time as Cocoon's leader is coming to an end. Soon, I will be in failing health and will be unfit to rule any longer. I require a replacement."

He paused, straightening his robes. "Someone ambitious, full of fresh energy and with cunning mind."

The idea mulled over in Cid's head abruptly, taking him by surprise. Though he had been doing his best in remaining wary, the proposition succeeded in lowering his guard. "And you are considering me to take on this task?"

"I have been keeping a careful track of eligible candidates, Mr. Raines." He smiled once more, this time disarmingly. "How do you take to this proposal?"

Cid stood and bowed curtly. "I am flattered, sir. But…"

"But…?"

"I seem to recall it is your duty to negotiate between the Fal'Cie Eden and our own council. I imagine that should I accept, that would be my duty as well?"

"Correct. I will instruct you, of course, before my term ends."

Cid glanced off to the side, taking in the sweeping curves of the glass and metal buildings just beyond the Sanctum Hall. He let Phoenix's light filter into his eyes, relaxing his posture and mind. The decision was not an easy one; not when it came so soon.

_It's everything that I've ever wanted… Then why don't I just accept?_

His face betrayed no hints of hesitation, but Cid could not shake the feeling of a hidden motive, an unforeseeable threat that could end perilously. Sensing this, Dysley read his thoughts and offered some consolation.

"The position of Primarch is not a delicate one, for the faint of heart or weak of will. It is prestigious, rife with responsibility of both all of Cocoon and ones' self, and to be presented with the opportunity so suddenly may be… _overwhelming._ Rest assured, Mr. Raines, I understand your reluctance, for it is one I myself felt before I began." His tone steadily grew sharper and more commanding. "Now is a moment to be seized, there will be no other! We may not allow ourselves to hesitate, for the danger to Cocoon's peace is always lurking in the annals of Pulse below."

With such a force it left his ears ringing, it was a wonder the frail figure of the Primarch did not crumple. It was a facet of his, luring opponents to underestimate his strength only to stand to full height and send his voice booming down the Halls.

But by now, suspicion had crept back into the General. "…How can you be so certain of this threat from Pulse? We've not engaged with its beasts for many centuries now."

Dysley's drawn out and unexpected laugh sent a chill down his spine. "I have spoken to Eden, and we have agreed that there will in fact be an invasion very soon."

"H-how?" Cid stammered, losing his composure quickly.

"Cocoon will fall, General. Millions of lives will be lost. And do you know who is responsible for this?" His tone lowered to an eerie quiet, and the Primarch turned to face the paralyzed Cid, boring into his eyes with an intense glare of malice and loathing.

"I am."

With a flick of his wrist, the doors to the office closed and the air became stifling. Dysley's figure flickered with an unnatural energy and heat, his voice distorting and magnifying to a metallic roar.

"I am Barthandelus, Fal'Cie supreme and overseer of Cocoon. By the hands of six l'Cie, Cocoon will perish."

His face twisted into a flat sneer, oversized arms swaying through the air. Reality seemed to break away, Cid's own breath escaping as Barthandelus grew and revealed more and more of his true form. There was nothing but a swirling darkness all around and the penetrating sound of Barthandelus echoing through his mind.

He was… monstrous.

"I now brand you a l'Cie!" The Fal'Cie roared.

A shooting pain engulfed Cid's right arm, branching across his body until he cried out and finally… retreated into unconsciousness.

* * *

_A gray static like an empty film roll slowly churned into motion… There was no light; the vision before his eyes was devoid of life or emotion. He floated in a dreadful staleness, watching helplessly, disconnected, as the sphere crystallized and came crashing down. A smothering wave of dust and debris rushed out from the base of the impact._

_There was a glint of steel, the shape of a familiar weapon, and figures of others… Six blurry figures in the distance. The ones who would cause Cocoon's fall._

_The vision ended, no more than a hazy memory now. It was rapidly disappearing… Everything was breaking away. And then there was darkness once more._

* * *

Cid Raines could not place when exactly his senses returned to him and he could register lying face down on the carpeted floor, stiff from the awkward position. After a few moments, as his memory trickled back like warm water, he belatedly remembered Primarch Dysley's transformation and the events that followed. But after the sensation that had burned his arm, a ghost of which still throbbed, there was nothing; just a fragment of something he was sure existed but didn't remember.

He pushed himself up shakily, flexing his fingers to make sure he really was anchored in reality. What was that, on his right hand…?

Cid cautiously pulled off his glove, gasping at the black mark that was now tattooed right below his knuckles. There was no trace of the pain from earlier, but the mark still seemed to pulse with a life of its own. He quickly pulled his glove back on, acutely aware that he had been branded a l'Cie monster, enemy of the world he swore to protect.

_This cannot be happening… I-I can't believe…_

Cid fell to his knees, afflicted with a storm of emotions so polar and violent his mind blanked to an empty slate. The steady tick of time slowed to a pathetic crawl.

_I'm a l'Cie now…_

On cue, the mark pulsed.

_Why… Why did he…?_

The image of Dysley with a cold sneer, transforming into a Fal'Cie before his eyes, was forever engraved in his mind. Agonizing desperation and grief washed over him, a single tear brimming on the edge of his eye. He blinked it away, sucking in a sharp breath to stop himself from sobbing.

Then came the rage. The steady realization of the injustice that had been dealt, the cruelty of the man who had manipulated not only him but all of Cocoon. It filled Cid with an unimaginable energy, ready to explode at a moment's notice. He wanted to stand and rain it down upon Dysley, upon Pulse, upon anything he could direct his hatred at. It was incredible, the kind of strength that seemed to well up without end from his core. The air tingled once more, brimming with a magical energy.

With an enraged howl that seemed to shake the room, Cid forfeited his control and let the magic run free in vicious arcs of lightning, fire, and ruin. They coursed outwards, striking indiscriminately at all they touched.

"_Barthandelus!" _The hatred attached to the name rose from within his lungs in an unrestrained bellow, culminating in one final crescendo of deafening magical explosions that left Cid breathless and weak.

"I will… Have my revenge… for this." A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, but already a fragile flower of hope was blooming before his eyes.

_You will not have your way, Barthandelus. I will defy you and save Cocoon._

"That is my focus." He whispered. "To save Cocoon."

* * *

:: 05.31.3075 ; 2:17 P.M.

_Trial Run 4A_

After an exhaustive two weeks of research and testing, we've finally managed to work out most of the bugs with A-B28. Specifically, the very resilient coding bug that would cause A-B28 to suppress and cancel its CSIR transformation despite having received the appropriated amount of damage, blood loss and epinephrine has finally been fixed, in a rather clever way, by Dr. Marcus, who correctly identified a faulty chip implant in the frontal cortex region of the brain. He claims the revelation came to him while eating a bag of chips…

The Field Trial against a pack of Silver Lobos ended successfully, with A-B28 taking only 13% overall damage and finishing in a record time of 3 minutes and 50 seconds. Soon we will add handicaps to ensure A-B28 can perform under combat stress.

One weak point we are having trouble fixing, however, is the susceptibility to excessively high or low thermal energy focused in blast points, as demonstrated by the mana drives. The culprit, of course, is the fact that A-B28 is made of organic cells. Short of extensive and costly polyectric injections across its body, we have no solutions. Dr. Roemar is working with his team as I type to refine the combat algorithms so the thinner layers of hide are not exposed as frequently during engagements.

Finally, I am happy to announce that since inheriting the project from Sundra Labs two months ago, our team has increased the effective detection range of the A-B's by over 18%, among a slew of performance tweaks that would take a while to jot down. I will simply say the GCMR will be pleased with the results of their new weapon.

In other news, this project will be our last before the team takes an official vacation. I'll be taking my wife on a surprise trip to Bodhum for the festival that's coming up in a week. Hope she'll like it, she's been going on about it for months. ::

_End Log_

- Dr. Alver Amadeen

* * *

:: 05.31.3075 ; 2:51 P.M.

_Cocoon News_, reporting to you now from Eden!

Earlier today, famed architect Augustio Camille announced he would be making a tour of the ruins near Lake Bresha to pay homage and design a memorial at their entrance. The project is slated to begin next month, and admissions once it is completed will be 200 gil. The first 100 people to reserve entrance to the memorial once it is completed will receive a commemorative _paved block_ inscribed with various Breshan phrases. All ticket buyers will be entered into a lottery, and 1 lucky winner will receive a _special prize_ from Augustio himself!

Coming up later, Storm Motors filed for _bankruptcy_ earlier today! Chairman Aston Hendrichs has scheduled for a press conference later in the evening to reveal the companies exit strategy in a bid to calm investors and smooth out the process of selling its' patents. Since its founding over 40 years ago, Storm Motors has become one of Cocoon's most reliable and powerful ionic drive producers and has reshaped the standard for the industry. Analysts have been quick to point out that the emergence of rival companies, combined with an over-extension of funds to research in various fields, has led to a steady decline in Storm Motors' profits. Blue Unicorn Inc. will undoubtedly be on the stage in the days to come since their initial interest in acquiring bits of Storm Motors 2 years ago; the bankruptcy may finally be their wish come true as an opportunity to finally consolidate the two entities. Eden's upcoming 106th Grand Prix may be the _last_ time we see the iconic motors with the SM logo on them.

That's all for now, stay tuned for more _Cocoon News_ within the next quarter hour!

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Awww yeeeaah!


	3. Chapter 3: The First Day

**Author's Note:** I've scattered FFXIII-2 lore here and there in the last two chapters :) For you crafty readers with a keen eye.

* * *

Prologue : Chapter 3 : The First Day

Jihl Nabaat had more to flaunt than just her baton. One did not simply become a Lieutenant Colonel through hard work- at least, not all the way. No, there was a brilliance that came attached with the job. It had to be a perfect fit, like a custom glove, for someone ruthless and seductive. She was that medium.

"Colonel." An engineer stopped crisply in front of her, saluting. She had never bothered to take on a personal assistant; they were never on the same level as her, couldn't do things _right._ "We've arrived in Nautilus."

A thin smile spread across her lips. "Excellent. Follow procedure for temporary landings."

"Yes ma'am." He broke away in a jog.

_At least some are competent enough to follow directions._

Rather than have to repeat herself in painful detail, Colonel Nabaat was quick to implement a variety of procedures, _gambits_, for the most common situations where she would have to exercise her authority, including ship operations and strategic troop command. Like her appearance, her rule was concise and organized, fueled by efficiency and results. Those who could not handle her fast pace and wits, who found themselves lagging and performing errors, were quick to lose their jobs, regardless of seniority.

One famous scandal during her first two weeks after promotion to Lieutenant Colonel entailed her dismissal of a long-time and decorated PSICOM Major because he "fell asleep during a meeting." Suffice it to say that after the incident most felt fear rather than respect for her and quickly adhered to the new strict system.

4 PSICOM Wardens fell in line with her heeled step to the main lifts. An almost imperceptible lurching sensation registered in her stomach as the elevator smoothly accelerated down to the bottom of the airship _Aggas_, blue lift turbines flaring lightly.

When she stepped out, a humid blast of fresh air caressed her face. Even on the landing platforms, a short ride away from the actual Nautilus park, a fine sense of smell could pick out the scent of chocobo from among the moisture and metal of freshly deactivated propulsion drives.

The dimming light of Phoenix cast the evening sky in a pleasant orange that glinted off her glasses, which she habitually removed to readjust. Up above, more airships from the fleet formation descended onto the platforms, one of them invariably commanded by her passive-aggressive right-hand man.

Jihl's thoughts drifted like the light breeze as she settled into a small personnel shuttle.

_The Academy seems like a long, long time ago… It was merely 4 years ago that we stood in uniform, side by side, waiting to receive our ceremonial graduation badge and diploma. I recall that distant excitement at being first in line for highest performance. It hindsight, it was to be expected when my own will to succeed eclipsed that of the other students._

She blinked back to reality for a moment as the last PSICOM soldier boarded towards the back and the shuttle doors closed. The only indication they were moving was through the polished window beside her. Rather abruptly, Jihl noticed her reflection. She hadn't looked into a mirror for days… Her appearance seemed just the tiniest bit more aged.

_Perhaps Rosch is feeling the same bite._

She smirked at the idea, but knew that men did not pay attention to little details like that.

_He was a fine rival, to be sure. He wasn't like the others, not a tool with a weak will. A shame he wasn't more aggressive and willing to use people to their fullest application. Even then he would go off about how important it was to maintain a general benefit to society as a whole, even in the face of collateral. And yet, he refused to treat any subordinates in a conduct less than he would treat himself. Such an interesting contradiction…_

…_He's changed. Rosch is... A hardened man now._

The sound of boots on metal reached her ears. The shuttle doors were already open. Officers and soldiers were filing out. Jihl made a note to avoid any further deeply introverted monologues while on assignment, despite how her moral perspective shifted ever so slightly whenever she did.

Nautilus was a park of wonder and fantasy. An engine of fabrication and distraction that was perfectly suitable as a self-contained realm, one that lured visitors from all over Cocoon with its colorful lights, extravagant festivals, and unique amusements and engaged all their senses in spectacular fashion. Being here meant forgetting about everything that existed beyond. She could not be certain, but for a moment Jihl imagined that working in a constant cycle of laughter and happiness, whether real or not, would leave lasting mental scars and encourage violent shifts in behavior after prolonged exposure. Not that it was her concern. All that had to be made was a speech, a show of force, and they would be on their way.

_Public displays are Rosch's realm of fancy. For once, I'd rather he be assigned to do this in my place while I resign to some tactile work._

Jihl strode with decreasing interest down the plaza, ignoring the admiring gaze and hushed whispers of awe coming from the civilians that were herded to the side as the procession of PSICOM personnel made its way to its' center.

* * *

:: 05.31.3075 ; 7:00 P.M.

_Excerpt from Office of Guardian Corps Field Dispatch, Vile Peaks Division_ : _to Office of PSICOM Mgmt., Eden_

Following recent budget cuts and a string of injuries due to newly activating Pulse automata, I've shuffled around the officers from all major departments active in the Vile Peaks to prevent further losses. Discovery and extermination parties led by Corps Regulars and Corps Gunners at night will be discontinued by the end of the next week and will be limited to daylight excursions in groups of six or more. As replacements, I've ordered a number of Watchdrones, Thexterons and Pantherons to secure the outlying borders closer to major routes leading to the G.W.R.F. and local towns. I stress that these are auxiliary units and are built to deter or support actual combat units. By themselves, they are incapable of repelling large numbers of targets, be they Pulsian in origin or otherwise.

The Vile Peaks are a _large_ swath of land to maintain. Without the assistance of the advanced military arm of PSICOM, I am afraid we will be unable to do any more than contain its population, and even then only at certain fortified junctions. I have attached a list of units that I would appreciate if you could lend for the next three months so that we can launch some fast and brutal raids deeper into the trash lanes than we've ever managed to go.

In particular, I'm interested in an old scrap processing plant that was decommissioned some time ago located around the western borders. From the few scouting parties I've sent, I've been told there's been an infestation of Pulsework Soldiers and Bombs that's been growing unchecked since the plant was shut down. It's a big place, and would make a great buffer between the Peaks and the Sunleth Waterscape. ::

_End Report_

- Lieutenant Frasier

* * *

:: 05.31.3075 ; 7:49 P.M.

_Guardian Corps Bodhum Security Regiment Field Report_

Business as usual in the sleepy little town of Bodhum. Dispatched Sergeant Farron at midday to take care of some nasties on the edge of town. As always, she insisted on operating alone and performed amiably; she really is a great raid leader. Pretty soon and she'll earn a promotion! That'll be the day.

NORA dropped by to assist in the cleaning, and their leader- _Snow_, I believe- introduced himself. Interesting group, they are. A bunch of ragtag amateur monster hunters that get a kick out of doing our job for us. Not sure how they get their hands on some of the guns they have, but it's nothing to worry about; they're locals, operating from a bar owned by one of them called Lenora's Garage. Heard it's really popular! And it gets lots of business around this time of year when the Fireworks Festival hits the town.

Speaking of popular places, I checked the reservations for the _Flying Tortoise_… It looks like I'm never going to get a chance to relax in a hot tub in the air. Reservations were booked all the way to 3078! Who waits that long, seriously?

Ah, maybe one day I'll catch a break.

_End Report_

- Lieutenant Amodar

* * *

Jihl straightened her hair once more before taking a deep breath and beginning her commencement speech.

"People of Cocoon!" The general cheer that had erupted when she first stepped onto the elevated platform quieted down to an excited murmur as her voice boomed over the amplifiers and her proud figure was displayed on holo-monitors across Cocoon.

"I come before to you today as a humble representative of the Sanctum, and _leader_ of the PSICOM military that works _daily_ to keep our cities safe from Pulse!"

She paused as the propaganda sank in like a knife through warm butter and applause spread through the hundreds of spectators present.

"Today, we begin a campaign- a revival of Cocoon's prestige and security! Today, I command our fleets of brave men and women to sweep across the valleys, across the mountains, the rivers, oceans and cities and stop crime and attacks from wild animals in their tracks. We will assist the esteemed Guardian Corps, lend them our troops and weapons, and lead Cocoon to a new future of prosperity. We are always researching, developing, _advancing_ our existing technologies to make Cocoon the paradise it is. We will secure new sites to develop cities and extend infrastructure, to share cultures and promote knowledge, and understand the past that we arose from that make us the great world we are today!"

The crowd drank up every word, clamoring for more. Jihl raised her hand, discreetly snapping her fingers. The officer behind her nodded, and in a moment a line of assorted PSICOM and Guardian Corps officers marched into dazzling formations of size, power, color and arrangement. She too extended her baton and raised it in salute.

"We may not, and _will _not falter! We… are the Sanctum's glory!"

* * *

"Rousing speech, Nabaat. I felt myself quivering in my boots from the sheer glorifying." Yaag Rosch finally had something to smirk about.

"If I can make you quiver with words, imagine what I could do with this." She patted her holstered baton, scaling up the instigation.

Rosch growled, but did not press the matter. "I never knew you to be the type for speeches."

"I'm not. I was actually hoping to delegate this one off to you, I've got more _important_ things to dirty my hands with." What first began as a small token of generosity, Jihl managed to transform into a disguised insult. As she stalked off, Rosch felt something inside of him snap, and he quickly followed.

"What have I done to you to deserve such veiled aggression? Do me the honor of being forthcoming with any grudges you may hold so I may settle them." He hissed. It was something she had never considered. There was a satisfaction that came with being superior, a sadistic perfectionist that exposed and preyed upon the weaknesses of others. For that reason, any natural compulsions rooted in habit to treat people as inferiors was quick to form upon most first impressions and stay firmly in place, lest the person in question should earn her begrudging respect or even rarely, subtle admiration.

Of course, these realizations flashed by in only a fraction of a moment, so her response was consequentially just as curt and raw. "Because you've proven you're not up to par with me."

Rosch stopped in his place, silent. She slowed down and stopped just a few paces ahead of him, stealing a glance back after a moment. His face was dark, riddled with an unusual mix of surprise, loathing and… pain.

…_Pain?_

For what seemed like the first time, Jihl heard her own voice in her mind; one under her control, that slowly sounded out the syllables to the one emotion she had not been expecting. The rational that always jumped out before, snidely justifying every smirk and insult, was muffled and in the background, not so personal and attached anymore. Listening to it, she realized that it didn't _feel_ like her.

_It sounds like… a shadow of me. Is it really?_

But there were no more opportunities to smile and adjust her glasses. When she returned to her senses, focused her eyes on the spot she had been staring at, Rosch already had his back turned and was a distance away. Jilh stood motionless, not a single twitch going through her nerves to even raise a finger or part her lips and maybe call after him.

She turned back the way she had been walking, words unleashed and far too late to take back, partially aware that returning to the _Aggas_ would not be nearly as refreshing as she originally intended. `

* * *

:: 05.31.3075 ; 8:26 P.M.

To be caught in a vicious cycle between something as intangible and coarse as an emotion is degrading to me. Old memories are stirred from their resting place, where I had intended to leave them for some later period to be disturbed when I am retired and in a position to digest them. Fate has a penchant for inflicting cruelties upon me; whether they are of my design or not, I do not know.

I wish to escape, at least for the time being, back to an age when my worries were less in number and importance, as many do. Childish, perhaps, to wish to drop burdens the moment they began to strain my will and summon my doubt as to whether I can bear them.

…If there is anything I have learned and practiced to do well, it is to carry out my duties. There will be losses, sacrifices, choices to be certain. I already see a mark of my instability, my writing is becoming fragmented and unrelated in topic among paragraphs.

I exemplify a man of importance, of rigor and schedule, of duty to my people and their security, of… strength. But is this who I am? Is it really myself whom I have grown into along the way, or am I merely someone I found and thought I was? Have I become what others view me as?

If there is one thing Jihl said that I may admit to be true, it is that we may not falter. If I allow these demons to strike me down, they will succeed in crushing what I have worked so long to acquire, and everything I have fought to protect. ::

Rosch blinked as the last rays of light from Phoenix died on the horizon and the sky faded to a shimmering dark blue.

:: For everything that matters to me… for everything I stand to lose… I cannot, and _will not_- ::

He drew a blank. A storm of words flashed across his eyes, all suitable to his mood, but none so appropriate as to perfectly embody what exactly he himself did not understand and could not define.

_I am lost now, not even certain what it is I am supposed to resist and not do. _

He looked back down at the holopad, a tingling enveloping his mind as he read the words back to himself through a different perspective, as a stranger. They were foreign, laced with self-pity and a laudable misery of one who has lost all hope in life.

A clear image of Lucille came floating back to him, smiling and warm. Behind her were those under his command- the engineers, the soldiers and hunters, the scouters, gunners and guardians. All men and women who fulfilled their duty to Cocoon daily, who were behind him as both friends and colleagues, ready to follow where he pointed.

A familiar power returned to his tired body, reinvigorating like the air after a shower on fertile lands. With a flick of a finger, the uncompleted document was deleted.

Rosch stood, unwilling to submit his will to be crumpled.

"Tomorrow…" he breathed, "is a new dawn."

* * *

**Author's Note:** A slightly more emotional chapter for Rosch than I was pleased with doing, but all in all the end result was, in my opinion, not too bad.


	4. Chapter 4: Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:** I haven't been writing since the hurricane hit us here in NY. It's been a troubling time, most of it spent volunteering and getting my hands dirty, but I'm glad to see the city back on its feet, albeit shakily. Not sure if that's all reflected in this chapter. Might be why its shorter and less refined. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 4 : Behind Closed Doors

"Red Squadron, you are cleared to land."

The bay door opened and a number of heavily armored PSICOM Infiltrators gracefully jumped out of the small Interceptor. Their metal boots barely thudded as they landed on the ground under the support of multiple grav-con units.

With a sweeping gaze and rifles pointed, they shuffled down a corridor amid the surprised shrieks of civilians that were herded back by Corps Pacifex. Behind them, Blue Squadron made its landing and followed closely behind.

"Halt."

The squad lead stopped the group with a raised fist and motioned for Blue Squad to rush around to the opposite corner of the doorway they had reached.

"We move in on 3."

They nodded.

_One. Two. Go._

The heavy door hissed open, barely retracted before four Infiltrators were already on the landing and yelling at the man to put his hands on his head and stay still. He complied, cuffs around his wrists in seconds. Lying unconscious at his knees was a boy with a sizable afro much like the mans' in custody.

"This your son?"

He was hardly in a state to speak, choked up and close to tears either from emotion or the smoke-riddled air, but he nodded. "Yeah, that's my little boy Dajh."

More running was heard beyond the doorway as a medical unit entered the observation deck and kneeled down to check Dajh's condition. Before his father could venture asking about his son's health, however, he was pulled to his feet and marched away, much to his displeasure.

"No, _wait,_ what are you doin'?" He struggled against the two Infiltrators holding him. "That's my son! You can't just take me away from him!"

Even as he shouted, he knew there was little point. With his hands cuffed and surrounded by no less than 8 soldiers, he'd be full of holes before he even turned to see Dajh again.

"Stop fidgeting and face forward." The solider holding his left arm gave him a shove.

"Now now, no need to be so blunt with our detainee." A smooth female voice caught his attention in front. She was tall and blonde, a refined figure in a military outfit. Her locks of hair stretched almost to her hips, and her palm was lovingly curled on the hilt of a baton clipped to her belt.

"You with these guys?" He asked suspiciously.

"I am Lieutenant Colonel Jihl Nabaat, head of PSICOM; yes, I do oversee the troops currently detaining you." She smiled thinly. "Forgive the rough handling, we are _unaccustomed_ to high-level security breaches in the presence of Fal'Cie, and you happen to be at the scene. Please, acquaint me with your name."

He eyed her slowly, not sure whether Jihl would be an asset to his release or a knife to his side. "…Sazh Katzroy." He conceded.

_Not like they couldn't just scan me to find out._

"A pleasure, Mr. Katzroy."

"Yeah, sure is pleasant. What about my son?" He jerked his head in the direction of the medical unit.

"Allow us to handle that. We will keep your son in good health and inform you of any _injuries_ we may find. In the meantime, if you would be so kind as to cooperate, I'd like to question you about what happened here." Her tone was not particularly abrasive or attitude overbearing as was usual of people in her seat of power, and Sazh's options were slim, so he half-heartedly agreed. "Fine, fine."

"Excellent. Let's go." She snapped her fingers and the Infiltrators dispersed, Dajh out of sight. At least the two holding him seemed to loosen up their grip.

* * *

Sazh openly observed the room with curious eyes, stealing a glance out the window to his side at the wings of the airship far below, under which were mounted thrusters and pulse cannons. The light filtering through was gentle, warming his face from the cold sweat that had gripped him earlier.

_Man, I haven't seen this many guns since 'Attack of the Clones.'_

Jihl had guided them back to the crown jewel of the airship fleet, the_ Palamecia_, a ship he was familiar with. For a moment, he had missed what she had been saying about their recent work as he looked up, awe-struck, at its incredible size. The inside might as well have been its own building.

Now he was sitting idly in a conference office, alone, as he waited for her to gather some documents and return. The two Wardens outside were intimidating figures, and made any attempt at unsupervised touring undesirable and impossible.

It didn't take long before she strode into the room and plopped down opposite him, charm half gone.

"Some impressive firepower you got here." Sazh grunted.

"I am inclined to agree; we deploy every resource to maintain Cocoon's peace. However, at the moment it is the peace surrounding Euride Gorge that you and I must busy ourselves with."

_Straight to business, I see._

She pushed aside a small holopad of the spinning figure of Kujata, the Sanctum Fal'Cie that provided the enormous amounts of power to keep the local cities of Cocoon running.

"At around 11:29 this morning, a massive power spike was reported at the plant. Following, an unusual signal was detected; it matched patterns produced only by military-grade manadrive technology that is capable of emitting bursts of synthetic _magic._ Tell me, Mr. Katzroy, are you familiar with Fal'Cie lore regarding their abilities?"

She had his attention, and he followed her train of thought. "Yeah… Yeah, Fal'Cie can brand people into l'cie to do their bidding. But that's only lore… right?" The uncertainty that came at the end of the question signaled that Sazh had his doubts, and might have even been realizing that something unbelievable had come to pass. Jihl only shot back a grim stare.

"Oh… Oh no." The fear descended onto his face in a moment like a curtain. "No, no, no!" He jumped up from his seat, face buried in his worn hands as he silently sobbed and tried to come to grips with just what exactly had happened an hour ago.

"Dajh, my little boy…" Sazh moaned. "A _l'cie?_"

Jihl cleared her throat, seemingly at a loss for words.

"He is. I am sorry to have to inform you that." She allowed him a minute to continue pacing the room in agony before continuing. "I have a proposal for you."

He stopped, back turned to her, but she knew that a million thoughts were racing through his mind at that moment. Reluctantly, he slumped back into the seat, but he could no longer raise his face to meet her soft gaze.

"With your permission, we will run some tests on Dajh to determine his focus." His body twitched at the suggestion, but Sazh said nothing. "With any luck, we will be able to discover it and help him complete it, preventing an untimely demise." Neither of them needed to elaborate upon the touchy subject of Cie'th. There was simply no alternative.

"I don't have much of a choice here, do I?" Sazh ran a hand through his afro, sighing. "I can't let Dajh run out of time and..."

"It is agreed then?"

Sazh moved his head almost imperceptibly. With a quick reflex, Jihl tapped a string of commands into the holopad she had pushed aside. "Rest assured, Mr. Katzroy, Dajh is in good hands. The Sanctum will not allow for one of its citizens to go without aid."

Somewhere in the back on his mind, Sazh wondered whether she was referring to Dajh or him.

"I am obligated to ask as to what your occupation is." She tapped her finger lightly next to the holopad, drawing his attention back to the office.

"Oh, uh, civilian pilot. Took a vacation yesterday to spend some time with Dajh…" He murmured.

"So his mother, she is…?"

"In a better place." Jihl winced.

"I am truly sorry to hear that. I apologize for having to bring these topics up." At least in that moment, Sazh could forget the differences between them and look upon Jihl as just another human that could feel pain like him. It reminded him of his wife, and it made his heart ache.

"It's alright. Happened a while ago. Back when I was a train conductor."

"Oh?"

"Always had a fondness for vehicles. Those were good times, back then." Sazh didn't realize it, but his defenses were lapsing. He was spilling his heart out to the one person who would listen, and only then because it was her job to make a case file of him. It was _sad._ "But when my wife passed away, I couldn't bear looking at trains anymore. I quit. Moved onto airships."

Jihl kept up with his statements remarkably fast; she finished typing only a moment after he finished speaking.

"I appreciate the information. I must be going now, but you are welcome to stay and even walk around with an escort." She stood, holopad and tablets pressed tightly to her chest.

"Alright. I'll stay." Whatever reluctance and mistrust he had harbored before, she had managed to dispel. He had nowhere to go and no one to stay with.

"Excellent. A room will be arranged for you promptly. Mr. Katzroy?"

He glanced up at her smiling, soothing features.

"Don't worry about Dajh. You have my word he will be cared for and you both will be reunited."

Her heels clicked as she turned and strode out of the office. The distant hum of thrusters once again permeated the office, offering a dull ambient noise to suppress thought.

_I'll… take a walk around the place soon._

The tumult of emotions left Sazh more exhausted than he realized. He yawned, stretching onto the table and shifting into a comfortable position. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Rosch grimaced, fully aware that despite his best efforts he was being outdone once more, this time by pure chance.

"I simply cannot reconcile that Nabaat has the lead on this case in Euride."

Lucille nimbly jogged by his side, struggling to maintain her relaxed demeanor. "Hopefully, she'll be preoccupied with poring over the l'cie and leave you with the task of continuing ops." Rosch snorted, but she was being earnest, feeling that there was a good chance for it.

"Let us not raise our hopes too high. Opportunities have been slim lately; Euride has given our sleepy soldiers a chance to shine. Has the Sanctum responded to the conference request?"

Lucille beamed. "They sent back an approval a few minutes ago. Primarch Dysley will be seeing you this evening." The news sent a smile onto Rosch's lips, something she was always glad to witness.

"Our luck has not run dry. Should things go according to plan, we shall soon be catapulted to the far reaches of public attention." It was a simple plan, one that he had formulated within minutes of receiving an updated report on the status of the detainees from Euride. While Jihl was busy examining them like specimens, Rosch would swoop in and become the public face of the Sanctum's efforts to unravel the unsettling events surrounding the Euride Gorge. Lucille was skeptical at first, believing her superior to be a little _too_ bent on his competition for fame and glory, but she reluctantly agreed and now found herself enjoying the opportunity to do something useful.

The pair stepped onto the small landing bay of the _Fenrir_ and entered the nearest escort fighter. It lifted effortlessly and propelled through a long ring of blue accelerators, bursting out into the clear evening sky high above the clouds. In the distance, the city of Eden glimmered.

Rosch glanced at his mesmerized assistant, who was staring out at Phoenix's brilliant orange glow. "I think tonight, after the conference, we will dine and enjoy the evening." He murmured low, even though she would be the only one to hear him anyway. A blush crept onto her cheeks, and they said nothing more.

_In hindsight, it was not a particularly important period of time. I was still infatuated off the idea of claiming my days of glory, and circumstances were weighing in my odds. It was not until later that I would realize the folly I had committed, or how much more convoluted the circumstances surrounding the l'cie and Sanctum truly were. Cid Raines had become a pawn of someone I believed our one great executive, and in a desperate attempt at salvation would defy his fate. I was not so spectacular. My dealings with the saviors would be short and official, and we were always polar opposites. Every time I came face to face with them, more of my embarrassment and sense of justice bore its fangs to stop them, but they humbled me. It wasn't until I was at the end of my time that I would finally release my grudge and do what I should have done all along._

* * *

"He said _what?!"_ Rygdea's shout echoed across the room. His hands were at his head in disbelief, mouth agape. "Why didn't ya tell me sooner, Cid?"

"Calm down." Cid Raines raised his hand, silencing his companion. "I was unsure of whether to risk informing anyone. I would hate to endanger you by letting this slip."

"_Augh._" Rygdea had a hard time dealing with overwhelming surprises, and he paced the room, hand on his beard. "This is _not_ good."

"I am aware."

Rygdea wheeled around, intensely eyeing Cid before breaking the contact and taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay. So Cocoon is going to fall to six l'cie; we got a report that one was branded today at the Euride Gorge. You think that's one of 'em?"

"I cannot say with certainty, for he did not describe them."

"Then what's our plan? We can't just let this… _slide_ on by!" He gestured nonchalantly with his hands.

"No, of course not. Listen, in the days since then I've improvised how we might use this to our advantage."

Rygdea looked at him expectantly, hard blue eyes glinting with opportunity. "Yeah?"

"We'll gather the l'cie and bring them to bear against the Sanctum. I am distrustful of the Primarch and his sources; the Fal'Cie's duties are to protect us and I smell a plot. Dysley may be at its head…"

"Never did like those Sanctum bastards." Rygdea mumbled. "But we can't let 'em drop us either."

"And we will not. Should they succeed, we will suppress them and prevent the fall. Cocoon will know a new leadership."

Rygdea lit up like the rifle he was so fond of firing. "This plan just gets better and better. I wonder if those l'cie are as dangerous as they're made out to be."

"We will soon find out. Whether or not they are monsters, we do not know; they may very well be ordinary civilians at the wrong place and the wrong time. In the end, I would rather avoid casualties; but we do what must be done." Cid flashed his familiar smirk, harboring the much grimmer sentiment that he was now one of the monsters he spoke of. It exuded a cool confidence perfect for a man of his position and intelligence, and it made Rygdea believe in the man unequivocally.

"Heck yeah! When do we start?"

"The moment PSICOM makes its move."

_My only regret, my friend, is that I cannot inform you of the true extent of this tale. Behind this glove, my hand pulses with mark of a damned man. I believe it better you remain unaware so that I may spare you grief and indecision. Perhaps I will discover my focus, and at worst you will have to see me through the distorted lenses of a crystal statue._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Felt like a rushed job, so I went back and tweaked a few sentences to better complete the chapter. Non-important details, so there's no need to reread if you don't want to.


End file.
